


Shooting Star

by constellationary



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/M, Insomnia, Stargazing, gally is a sweetheart who must be protected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 17:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12587340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationary/pseuds/constellationary
Summary: When the reader can't sleep, Gally does what he can to help.





	Shooting Star

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of a few reader inserts that I wrote a few years ago for maze runner. I probably won't write any more for this fandom since I'm not really into it anymore.

The night air is crisp and clean. It makes you feel a little more refreshed, despite the fact that you’re running on empty. You take a deep breath in, then out. It’s like a new beginning, every night.

Ever since you came to the glade, you had no problems with sleep. You’d just lay down, close your eyes, and then next thing you know it’s morning. Lately, though, you close your eyes, but all you can see is the darkness, a darkness that you’re painfully aware of- and awake to recognize. Sleep doesn’t take you anymore. In fact, you haven’t gotten a good nights sleep in a couple of weeks.

But one good thing has come from your insomnia. You’ve grown to appreciate the night. The stars draw patterns and the moonlight seeps into your soul. You’ve found that the watchtower is an ideal place to be at night; you have a perfect, clear view of the sky. So, every night for the last week, you’ve waited till everyone is asleep, then you head up to the tower. You really don’t want people to worry about you, so you don’t tell anyone. The boys always make such a big deal out of any little thing going wrong for you. If you can’t deal with a little tiredness by yourself, you might as well just be yelling, “Help! I can’t handle anything remotely uncomfortable! Save me!” And you’re not like that, you know. You can handle it. You have to.

You’ve even got a little fort set up, with blankets and pillows and stuff. You just shove it off to the side during the day, then return at night to cozy up and watch the stars. Shooting stars are a special treat; you love it when they appear. Like a portable wish. Every time one appears, you wish that you’ll sleep a full night. It hasn’t worked yet, sadly.

You’re in an exhausted haze when you feel the tower sway, like how it does when someone’s climbing up the ladder. You tense up. Who would want to be on the watchtower in the middle of the night? Well, you, of course, but other than that? You sit up carefully and wait for them to appear at the top of the climb.

You’re relieved to see it’s just Gally. He gives you a small smile when he sees you. “Hey, night owl. What are you doin’ all the way up here?”

You shrug noncommittally. “I don’t know. I like it up here.”

Shaking his head with a smile, he says, “Of course you do.”

“What are you doing up here?” You shoot back.

“I saw you head up here last night, then you did it again tonight. I wanted to check what’s up.”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah. It’s just pretty up here. I like looking at the stars.”

He pauses. “Y/N, I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Why do you think that?” You ask warily.

“Well, you’re never in the homestead at night. And you’re always exhausted lately. I see you when you’re trying to work- you’re so out of it, so tired, Y/N.” He sits down next to you.

“I’m fine, Gally. So what if I’m getting a little less sleep than I should. I can handle it.” You don’t look him in the eyes. You know he’ll worry if you tell him how bad it is.

He shakes his head. “It’s worse than ‘a little bit less sleep than you should have’. I don’t understand how you’re even functioning.”

You’re silent for a few seconds. “Yeah.” He’ll keep pestering you if you don’t talk to him about this, and he already seems to know. “I haven’t been able to sleep for more than an hour or two every night.”

“For how long?” Gally asks.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Two weeks? More?”

“Shuck, Y/N. I had no idea it was so bad…”

You sit up a little straighter. “Yeah, well, I can deal with it on my own. I have been for this long. And it’s not like anyone can help.”

“If this is how you’re dealing with it, then something needs to change. Look at you! You’re dead on your feet.” He shakes his head, sincere concern flickering on his face. “Come here. Lay next to me.”

“What do you mean, Gally?” you ask curiously.

He rolls his eyes. “C'mon. Just trust me. You do trust me, right?”

You nod, shrug your shoulders, and scoot close to him. The stars shift into view and you take a deep breath. “Now what, genius?”

“Just relax.” He sits near you and moves your head so it’s resting in his lap. “Have I ever told you the story about when some of the gladers tried to play capture the flag?”

You shake your head. “No. What’s that?”

He takes a lock of your hair, runs his fingers through it. He strokes your hair softly, gentler than you would think he could. “It’s a game, one that a couple of gladers remembered somehow. You split the players up into two teams. Each one has a “flag”- some sort of piece of fabric. You divide the area where you’re playing in half, and each side is safe on their own side. The teams hide their flag in their own territory. If you cross into the other team’s territory, they can capture you and take you to their jail. You can’t get out from jail unless one of your teammates comes and tags you. Basically, the point is to get over enemy lines, find their flag, and bring it back to your side without getting taken to jail.“

"Wow. That sounds awesome. We should play it,” you say. You yawn, and he keeps talking.

“Yeah, it was awesome. I was on the same team as Alby, Frypan, Chuck, and Ben. The other team was Minho, Newt, Winston, Eric, and Nick. We started playing, and pretty soon Newt crossed into our territory. I caught him, and left him in the jail. Chuck was guarding. For some reason, the slinthead decided that since Newt couldn’t leave, it would be funny to do something to him.

"So Chuck gets this bucket of water and pours it over Newt’s head when he’s not looking. Newt flipped out. It was so funny, I came back to check on them and Newt was lecturing Chuck like there was no tomorrow, dripping wet and pissed. Eventually Newt just walked away; we thought he was done playing. But he actually wanted revenge. Newt went back for his own water, and dumped it right on Chuck. Chuck ran to get more water, Newt went to stop him, and everyone followed, wanting to see what all the yelling and sloshing was.

"Pretty soon, everyone was soaking wet. We had a huge water fight right in the middle of the glade. After we were all dripping with water, we just sat around on the grass, drying off in the sun and talking. See, this was back when most of the glade didn’t hate me. So we talked.”

Your eyes are starting to drift closed from his weaved storytelling, but you open them a little bit. “Talked about what?”

His hands softly playing with your hair make you melt into him. He’s just so comfortable- so safe. “Well, a ton of things. There were all sorts of things shot around, but eventually we started talking about who our families were. Well, we didn’t really know. But we said what we thought they would have been like.”

You mumble your words, “What do you think your family was like, Gal?”

“My mom was probably overprotective, but really caring. And my dad, I think he was a lot like I am- fast temper and liked to build stuff. And I bet I had a little sister. She was probably annoying, but I’d give anything to see her now- well, if she’s real. I would’ve had a dog too, a big one.”

“That’s really nice, Gally,” you say sleepily. You can feel yourself drifting off rapidly. You smile, knowing he’s only doing this to lull you to sleep. If any of the gladers heard him being so sentimental, they’d never let him forget it. But you don’t mind- it’s sweet.

Gally keeps speaking softly, but you don’t pay very much attention to his words…his tone is just so soothing. The last thing you hear is him saying, “Look. It’s a shooting star.”

You smile. Your first wish is just about to come true, you can tell. But now you have a new wish, and he’s sitting right next to you, holding you. Breathing deeply, you let sleep carry you away.


End file.
